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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



ONE WISH 



ONE WISH 



AND OTHER POEMS OF LOVE AND LIFE 



By 
SARA BEAUMONT KENNEDY 



£H/ 



INDIANAPOLIS 

THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



Copyright 1915 
The Bobbs-Merrill Company 






^6^;^6^ 









PRES8 OF 

BRAUNWORTH & CO. 

BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS 

BROOKLYN, N. Y. 

AUG -9 1915 

©Ci,A411006 



) 



TO THE MEMORY OF 

Walker Kennedy and Katherine Hobson, 
my husband and niece, whose fineness 
of perception and purity of vision never 
failed to inspire me, this book is dedicated. 

S. B. K. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

All Souls 84 

Anniversaries 88 

Bon Voyage 74 

Comrades Three 64 

Content 90 

Day After Day 68 

Day's End 1^ 

Failure 31 

Fate's Trinity 79 

Going Home . 16 

Hills of God, The 78 

Hundred Years, A . . . • • • .26 

Influence Is Responsibility 23 

Let Your Women Keep Silence . . . .32 

Little Things, The 57 

Lovers' Lane ........ 72 

Master's Toll, The 82 

My Prayer .36 

My Song 54 

Ninth Hour, The 62 

Old Songs 18 

O Little Feet 38 

One Day 48 



CONTENTS— Continuecf 

PAGE 

One Wish 15 

On the Trail 43 

Rainbow's End 70 

Red Roses . . .52 

Ship o' Dreams . . 50 

Solstices, The 47 

Somewhere, Some Day 34 

Song 75 

Stranded 28 

Sweetest Eyes 86 

Three Singers .40 

Tired 60 

Unanswered . 85 

Waiting 20 

Wander- Way, The 80 

What Then ? 67 

Writing in the Sand, The 44 

Yesterday . . .58 

Your Hands 24 



ONE WISH 



ONE WISH 

If I might have in all the scope of life 

One wish-come-true, 
Just one, and nothing more through all the years 
That Sorrow shrives and Hope endears, 

'Twould be for you. 

If I might have just one short prayer that found 

Its way to grace 
And won an answer from fate's high decree. 
That prayer, O best beloved one, would be 

To see your face. 

That wish-come-true and that one answered prayer. 

Whatever betide, 
Would be the hostage of my faith in God, 
And though the hot plow-shares of life I trod 

I would be satisfied. 



IS 



GOING HOME 

When I went home to you, though rough and steep 
The way, I never stopped to care; 

The end was rose-hued with the light of love, 
Knowing you waited there. 

I could not run too fast, O heart of mine, 
When I went home to you. 

When I went home to you, no matter what 

The hours had held of toil or grief or fret 

Was left outside the opened door — 

The pure, sweet smile of you made me forget 

Life's burden and its bitter weariness, 
When I went home to you. 



16 



GOING HOME 17 

For in your calm and brave serenity 

There was no room for faith's unrest ; 

You reached a hand of hope and helpfulness 
Into the darkest shadows that oppressed. 

I seemed to walk straight into God's white light 
When I went home to you. 

But, ah ! when I go home and find you not 
I can not leave behind the old despair; 

It dogs my steps up to the close-shut door, 

Inside of which there waits your empty chair, 

And all of life's deep bitterness comes back 
When I go home and find you not. 

When I go home and know you are not there 

The smoothest path is rough and hard ; 
I hate the window where your light once burned. 

( I wish to God it were forever barred ! ) 
The whole house seems a charnel place of joy 

When I go home and know you are not 
there. 



OLD SONGS 

A-down the years they come to me 

From out the crypts of time, 
With half-forgotten melody 

And faintly failing rhyme; 
With here and there a broken chord, 

A missing word or phrase. 
But sweet as angel whispers are — 

The songs of by-gone days. 

A snatch of college drinking song, 
A verse of cradle hymn, 

A bar of tender serenade. 

Sung when the stars were dim- — 



18 



OLD SONGS 19 

The truant strains they come and go 

Like sparks in smoky haze, 
A tangle of sweet memories — 

The songs of by-gone days. 

And as the measures float along, 

Like shadows o'er the sea, 
Across the bloom and drift of years 

Lost faces smile on me ; 
Eyes dimmed in death's eternal night 

Meet mine in love's long gaze, 
I kiss the marble lips that sang 

Those songs of by-gone days. 

Old tunes touch hidden chords in hearts 

Long mute with age or pain. 
And give us for a fleeting space 

Lost faith and hope again. 
Within yon Cloudland's Far- Away 

Where swell the hymns of praise 
God grant the angels sometimes sing 

The songs of by-gone days. 



WAITING 

And so we have come back again 

Through wreckage of dark nights and days, 

Back to the parting of the ways, 
Back to the milestone of lost dreams. 

And in our emptied hearts we bring 
No sun-lit joy for hopes achieved, 
No gratitude for grief reprieved, 

No suaging sense of faith fulfilled. 

Instead, turn wheresoe'er we may, 
There haunts us like a lost despair 
The ghost of an unanswered prayer — 

The one dear thing we asked of God. 



20 



WAITING 21 

They who expound the Gospel say : 

"Ye have not asked the thing ye should." 
How can we choose? How know the good 

Is not the thing we want the most ? 

Christ made no bargain save for faith — 
"Believe, and ask but in my name." 
When we do this where lies the blame 

That we come empty-hearted to the end? 

We can not understand. We trust 

That somewhere God's high purpose waits 
To solve the problem of life's hates 

And loves and free-born destinies — 

We only know that since our prayers 
Come back unanswered of His grace 
We must, of our own courage, face 

The whips of fate, nor whine nor yield. 



22 WAITING 

For this is self-respect. And while 

We hold to this we can not lose 

Our better nature, though God should refuse 
To keep His promise of an answered prayer. 

And so, with steadfast faith, but in ourselves. 
We have come back through darkened days, 
Back to the parting of the ways 

To wait beside the milestone of lost dreams. 



INFLUENCE IS RESPONSIBILITY 

Thou canst not stand aloof and wait 

For peaceful aftermath 
Lest thy indifference prove a snare 

In some poor toiler's path. 

If so thy feet have reached the heights 
Built upward toward the day, 

The torch within thy lifted hand 
Lights all the downward way. 

And if its guiding spark be quenched 

In tears of selfish dole, 
One day thy God may ask of thee 

Thy weaker sister's soul. 



23 



YOUR HANDS 

So weak and impotent they seem, 
Your two small, tired hands; 
So little might they grasp, and yet 
So many tasks for them were set, 
So many tangled strands. 

So idle once and prone to ease, 

So cared for and so white. 
Now, scarred with burdens duty spread 
And with the battle waged for bread. 

They wait the coming night. 



24 



YOUR HANDS 25 

When at the last the Master's voice 

Speaks its Divine commands 
And asks the record of your work — 
Or did you strive or did you shirk — 

Just show Him your two hands. 

And He your service or your sloth 

Will read in scar and line; 
He'll know whence all the roughness came — 
Witness of help or stamp of shame, 

Or love's clear counter-sign. 

Invisible to human eyes 

May be the secret scroll, 
But naught the Master's will withstands, 
And by the witness of your hands 

He'll one day judge your soul. 



A HUNDRED YEARS 

A hundred years from now, dear heart, 

They say we will not care 
For suns that scorch or winds that wreck, 

Or burdens we must bear. 
A hundred years from now the rose 

Of love will wilted lie. 
And asphodels of endless death 

Will signal to the sky. 



26 



^. HUNDRED YEARS 27 

A hundred years from now, dear heart, 

They say the tears we shed 
Will be forgot, the hot, salt tears 

That could not wake our dead. 
A hundred years, the vibrant song 

That hope sang to the stars 
Will be a silence of the soul, 

A stillness nothing mars. 

A hundred years — What then? A void, 

A deep abysmal gloom? 
Or radiant vistas, music-sweet. 

Of life and love and bloom? 
A hundred years ! We may not care 

E'en as the wise ones say; 
But God ! Those crawling hundred years 

Ere we outlive To-day ! 



STRANDED 

It lies in shallows, half a-shore, 
A-swing beyond the billows' play, 

A warped, deserted, battered hulk 
That has sailed out its little day. 

To what far ports it took its flight, 
What sails gleamed at its broken mast, 

What costly cargoes piled its decks, 
What pilot steered it home at last 



28 



STRANDED 29 

We may not know ; just only this : 
It served its purpose out and now 

It lies brown-ribbed upon the sand 
With gaping seams and rotting prow. 

But lying thus, we know it waits 

For some storm-ridden, moonless night 

When lifted clear of rock and reef 
'Twill put to sea without a light. 

And free and far for one fierce hour 
'Twill breast the deep it roamed of yore, 

Then from the crest of some high wave 
Go down to sail no more, no more ! 

But ere it sinks it will have known 
Once more the thrill of outward reach, 

And better that one teeming hour 
Than stagnant years upon the beach ! 



30 STRANDED 

And there are souls that, stranded, wait 
For flood-tide help to break away 

From shallow sloughs and sunken rocks, 
And seek the ports of Outer Day. 

'Mid stress of storm and racing wind 
That whitens all the sea with foam, 

Some day they'll hear the Pilot's call 
And see the harbor lights of Home. 

But stranded men, like stranded ships. 
Die better for an hour of strife — 

One strong up-lift, one victory cry. 
One challenge flung to love and life. 



FAILURE 

To strive and not succeed, yet still have strength 
To stifle back the moan and chide the pain, 
And rise once more and bravely seek to trace 
A new foothold among life's broken shards 

Which pierce us with regret — 
That is not failure, but the soul's high test, 
That is to grow toward God in grace, 

Yea, to be born again. 

But, oh ! to miss the goal, and to sink down 
With shaking hands beside the upward trail, 
Too spent to lift again life's weary load. 
Too numb to find a light, or in the dark a sign, 

Or in the heart a hope — 
That is to drink of Marah's bitter cup. 
That is to feel fate's biting goad, 

That is at last to fail. 



31 



LET YOUR WOMEN KEEP SILENCE 
I Corinthians 14:34 

And who laid on her this silence, 
Some one who had never abhorred 

The Beautiful Teacher of Wisdom? 
Nay, one who had mocked at his Lord — 

One who hounded with threatenings 
Disciples who worked out His will, 

One who "breathed slaughter" against them— 
He said : "Let a woman keep still." 

32 



LET YOUR WOMEN KEEP SILENCE 33 

She may not speak in your temples, 

It is not "seemly" nor right? — 
And yet 'tis her faith that through ages 

Has kept its clear tapers a-light. 

For man had gone back to the savage, 
Forgetting the soul and its need, 

Yea, lapsed to the club and the cave-house 
Had woman not held to her creed. 

White-souled as the radiant lilies 
That bloom in the muck of the sod, 

She may not speak in your temples — 
Yet a woman was mother of God ! 



SOMEWHERE, SOME DAY 

Somewhere, some day, nor time nor place 

Our hearts may set, 
Although the longing stifles us 

And eyes grow wet — 

Somewhere, some day, in lush of bloom 

Or drift of snow, 
In dusk of dark lit by dim stars. 

In noon's white glow — 



34 



SOMEWHERE, SOME DAY 35 

The things we hoped but dared not speak 

The long years through, 
The dearest dreams that haunt our hearts 

Will all come true. 

I can not tell why I believe; 

By subtle sign 
I know we'll walk the sun-lit hills, 

Your hand in mine. 

I can not see where those hills lift 

Their verdant way, 
But, ah ! I know we'll find the heights 

Somewhere, some day. 

And there we'll gather up our dreams 

And count them o'er; 
Your whispering lips close at my ear 

Forever more. 



MY PRAYER 

I do not trouble God with small requests, 
I earn, not ask my daily bread; 
'Tis for my toiling hands to keep 
The sheltering roof above my head — 

I do not weary God with such behests. 

For if each day I am to beg and whine 
About His knees for food and drink, 
Why did He give me strength and skill, 
Why have I power to plan and think — 

Why am I different from the browsing kine? 



36 



MY PRAYER 37 

When He placed me erect and taught me speech, 
When He gave me a hand and not a claw, 
He therewith, and for ages, laid 
Upon my soul the steadfast law 

Of self-dependence and of onward reach. 

And so I do not trouble Him with small requests, 
Begging each day a crust of bread, 
Waiting for Him, by miracle. 
To keep the roof-tree o'er my head — 

I do not weary God with such behests. 

And yet I pray. 

Yea, in my heart is one unceasing prayer 
And on my lips a never-dying song — 
That God will teach me how to make 
My daily choice 'twixt right and wrong 

That I may play life's game, and play it fair ! 



O LITTLE FEET 

O little feet, O little feet 

That ran so swift and gay 
A-down the road to Happiness 

When hope was in its May — 
O little feet that never tired, 

Each milestone was a friend 
That lured you down the path to where 

Love waited at the end ! 

O little feet, O little feet. 

How slowly you came back 
Along the road from Happiness, 

How rough and hard the track ! 
Your dancing step you have forgot, 

Each stone and thorn you find, 
You limp where once you stepped so light. 

For love is left behind. 



38 



LITTLE FEET 39 

O little feet, O little feet, 

You've learned the heart-break song — 
The road to Happiness is short, 

The backward trail is long ! 
The milestones that with beckoning hand 

Cheered all the onward way- 
Like specters haunt the silent lane 

That leads from Arcady ! 



THREE SINGERS 

In the years' white dawn three singers came 

Out of the mists of time, 
And touched their harps 'neath her window high 
And sang her a golden rhyme. 

Sang, as she waited behind the pane 

In a rift of sun or ripple of rain. 

For the fateful thing that should be a sign ; 

While her fingers plucked at the twisted vine. 



40 



THREE SINGERS 41 

One Singer was Wealth, and jewels gleamed 

As he struck his twanging strings; 
And he chanted the amber wine of joy 
And the pleasure its quaffing brings. 

And she leaned to see where the trail would 

run, 
And saw the shadow spread over the sun 
When the gold had melted some far, sad day ; 
And she flung him a leaf, and turned away. 

One Singer was Fame, and place and power 

And plaudits and peans of praise 
He promised her if she'd follow him 
Far out of the valley's maze. 
And she leaned to look where the pathway 

shone, 
And she saw she must travel it all alone 
So narrow it was and cramped and low \ 
And she flung him a thorn, and let him go. 



42 THREE SINGERS 

One Singer was Love, and his voice w^as sweet 

As wind blown out of the South. 
No fame he offered, no lure of gold; 
But a kiss for her warm, red mouth. 

And she leaned to glimpse where the path ran 

through. 
And she saw there was room a-plenty for two — 
For two to walk and never to part ; 
And she flung him a rose, and the rose was 
her heart ! 



ON THE TRAIL 

Choose him alone to be thy guide 
Who has gone further on the road, 

Who knows its pitfalls and has borne 
In stress of pain its bitter load. 

He will not let thee miss the way 

Though paths divide and clouds be gray. 

Let him thy mentor be whose soul 
Has known the passion of despair; 

Whose eyes have watched an empty trail 
Through nights of gloom and days of care. 

His quickened vision will be keen 

To see life's shadow 'neath its sheen. 

To learn forgiveness look to him 

Who has been wronged in word and deed, 

Whose heart has ached with trust betrayed, 
Yet faltered not in love's high creed; 

He only can thy master be 

To climb w^hite heights of charity. 



43 



THE WRITING IN THE SAND 

They dragged her to the Master's feet 

Abashed with shame and numb with dread. 

"We know the law that Moses wrote, 
But judge you her," the fierce mob said. 

She stood deserted and abhorred, 

The world-wide type of such as she, 

While in safe haunts and pleasant ways 
The partner of her guilt went free. 



44 



THE WRITING IN THE SAND 45 

In her scared eyes the wonder grew 
That she alone the shame must know, 

Yet dumb she waited, breast a-heave. 
To feel the mob's first stinging blow. 

Then Jesus said : "The sinless one 
May cast the stone that's in his hand." 

And while the conscience-stricken mob dispersed 
He stooped and wrote upon the sand. 

Wrote on the sand the mystic line 
The probing ages fain would scan; 

Perchance the wondering woman read 
The letters dim : "Where is the man?" 

The woman climbs her Calvary here. 
Outlawed and scorned and set aside; 

Each day, with sneer of good and bad. 
Her spirit is re-crucified ; 



46 THE WRITING IN THE SAND 

The while the man, more scarlet far 
Since he was tempter to her soul, 

Goes down the sunny side of life 
Unhindered of his dearest goal. 

Yet who may say he shall escape? 

When life has run its little span 
He'll read that writing in the dust 

And, trembling, say: "I am the man." 



THE SOLSTICES 

It does not always fall in June — 
The longest day of all the year, 
Which in the calends doth appear 
Set down by rule inviolate 

As more of sun than moon. 

But, sweet, for me the longest day, 
The one that seems to have no end, 
The blankest time the seasons send — 
Or red with June or bleached with snow- 
Is when you are away. 

And, sweetheart mine, of all the year — 
Despite December's ancient claim — 
The shortest day, with heart of flame 
And flying feet that will not stay. 

Is when I hold you near. 



47 



ONE DAY 

'Tis said, sweetheart, that in each life 
There dawns one perfect day; 

One day so white with touch of love 

It matters not if skies above 
Be blue or gray — 

One day so steeped in peace and dreams 

That we forget 
Hearts ever ached, or that with tears 
That hid the vista of the years 

Eyes have been wet. 



48 



ONE DAY 49 

Yet some there are who miss that day 

And blindly go, 
Nor glimpse the radiance from afar, 
Nor in the dusk catch one faint star; 

But, ah, sweetheart, I'll know ! 

I'll know when o'er the purple hills 

From crypts of night 
The first ray creeps, all amber-pale. 
And downward slips athwart the vale — 

Translucent light. 

It may not differ from all days — 

No more of cloud or clear. 
But, heart of mine, the blessed light 
Will give you to my yearning sight. 

And I shall hold you near. 

I care not if the sun shall shine 

Or rains drip silver gray, 
If snow lies white, or blooms the lea — 
The time that brings you back to me 

Shall be my perfect day! 



SHIP O' DREAMS 

A white, white sail spread over my ship, 

As white as a gull's wing gleams ; 
And it weighed its anchor and slipped away 
When the years were young and the heart was gay- 

My beautiful ship o' dreams. 

'Twas freighted with love that was ever to last 

Though faith and friends should fail ; 
And its prow was set to the golden west 
Where the sun sinks down in a haven of Rest 
And the storm-wraiths never wail. 



50 



SHIP O' DREAMS 51 

And far and away it sailed and sailed, 

Its free, white wings unfurled, 
Still and forever a-tracking the sun 
In a shining path where the bright waves run — 

Run over the rim of the world. 



But it never came back into port, my ship, 

Never came back from its quest ; 
Though I lighted my beacons high up on the trail 
Its cargo of hope went down in the gale 

Outside of the haven of Rest. 

And oft when the day dies down to the dark 

I look where the sunset streams, 
And I seem to see, all ghostly and pale, 
A broken prow and a tattered sail — 

The wreck o' my ship o' dreams ! 



RED ROSES 

FEBRUARY FOURTEEN 

Roses for my lady fair, 

Roses red as wine ! 
They are the heralds that shall say 
To her upon this love-sweet day 

She is my valentine! 

52 



RED ROSES 53 

For since the old-time saint was young 

(Unless the legend errs), 
When tender words were to be said 
To just one heart, the roses red 

Have been love's messengers. 

Their language is a secret code 

With cipher planned 
To spell a tender sweetheart creed, 
Which lovers' eyes alone may read, 

And lovers understand. 

So at St. Valentine's behest 

This day I choose, 
To fly as swift as homing dove 
And bear my lady all my love. 

The heart of this red rose ! 



MY SONG 

I made me a song, and I fared me forth 
To find who would listen and weep. 

For I told the sorrowful truths of life — 
The vigils our souls must keep, 

The failures that lurk where the path runs rough, 
The ambushed sorrow that waits. 

The biting bitter out-tasting the sweet 
In cup that is brewed of the Fates. 



54 



MY SONG 55 

And my song I sang to a child at play, 

But he put his hand to his ear: 
"Oh, I like a tune with a laugh," he cried, 

"This one has the drip of a tear." 

A soldier, belted and girded for fight. 
With his banners flashing on high. 

Scoffed loud at my lay: "Of glory I dream; 
What has fame to do with a sigh?" 

Two lovers who strolled in the faint star-gleam 
At sound of my voice turned back : 

"To us the whole world is roseate and gold, 
Why chant of a shadow that's black?" 

And I sang my song to a man who toiled 

In the hellish dark of a mine. 
But he cursed the strain with a snarling jibe, 

For he wanted the sweet sunshine. 



56 MY SONG 

Then an aged crone put my rhyme to shame 
With a shake of her wise, gray head: 

"I've come to the edge of the grave with grief, 
Make me laugh as I die," she said. 

So I tore my sorrowful song to shreds 
And I cast it out to the wilds. 

For I'd learned, though the world be eons old, 
Its heart is as young as a child's. 



THE LITTLE THINGS 

God sends us little joys for daily diet — 
The kindly word, the outstretched hand, 
The smile our hearts can understand, 

A song of hope, an hour of quiet. 

And with them come the little griefs and cares — 
The broken trysts, the rainy days, 
The slighting word, the dearth of praise, 

Each stab that in a heartache shares. 

And little sacrifices day by day 

Wait at our doors — the wish suppressed, 
The yielded place, the fault confessed, 

Self set aside, love's long delay. 

These are our hourly gleanings in the strife, 
These humble flow'rs, so small and trite ; 
The wonder-blooms of love and pain blow white 
(Like altar lilies for a solemn rite) 

But one time in the span of life. 



57 



YESTERDAY 

Where runs the road to Yesterday, 

Does nobody, nobody know? 
It can't be far, for I traveled it 

When the sun was sinking low. 

All of you journeyed the self -same path — 

Will nobody, nobody tell? 
Is it by the rocks or over the hills, 

Or where the white tides swell? 

It must be near, for I only turned 
A comer and entered the night, 

And I slept not long, for my heart was sore 
For a glimpse of the backward light. 



58 



YESTERDAY 59 

But, oh, somehow I have lost the trail — 
The foot-worn trail that pilgrims made 

Journeying up from the Wonderland 
Facing the east and unafraid. 

But I must go back, go back, you see ; 

(Will nobody show me the way?) 
For I've left my heart and my hope behind 

In the land of Yesterday. 

But how may I know the grass-grown path? 

Where glimmers the mystical line? 
I scan the far horizon's hem 

In quest of a hidden sign — 

But never a guide post points the way 

And never a milestone shows, 
And nobody walks the forgotten track, 

For nobody, nobody knows. 



TIRED 

Ah, no ; 'tis not for strength I pray ; 
Once, long ago, there was a day 

When all my prayer. 
Vibrant with pleading, was for power 
To bear the burden of each hour 

Nor cry for aid. 



60 



TIRED 61 

It was for silent lips, for eyes unwet, 

For heart that sought but to forget 
That I implored — 

For calm of spirit that should lie 

As soft as dawn on eastern sky- 
When night is done. 

But now I ask for these no more. 
Here at the Morning's open door 

I cast my burden down ; 
I've carried it the long years through, 
And though each step it heavier grew 

I stumbled on. 

Yea, groped and strove, but now for lack 
Of strength and hope I give it back 

To you who gave. 
You carry it, dear Lord, a while, 
A day's length or a little mile — 

I am so tired. 



THE NINTH HOUR 



GOOD FRIDAY 



No sea is always calm; no ship 

Sails out its little day without despair; 
The flood-tide hides the sunken rocks with peace, 

The ebbing leaves them bare. 
Yea, bare and snarling in the foam 

Tossed in white wreaths up to the deck, 
And on the quiet sands to-morrow's sun 

May rise upon a wreck. 



62 



THE NINTH HOUR 63 

No life is always safe; no soul 

So free and fair but it must know 
The awful desolation that abides 

In some "ninth hour" of woe — 
Some black and bitter time when we lose God 

And faith and hope and fealty, 
And in the heart is one accusing cry. 

"Lama sabachthani !" 

And yet, does God forsake, or is it we 

Who can not see or understand? 
Shall we not find Him where the shadows fall 

If we put forth a hand? 
The deepest dark comes just before the day, 

From storms the brightest stars are born, 
And that "ninth hour" may but the prelude be 

Of some fair Easter dawn. 



COMRADES THREE 

Nay, not alone 
When, sunrise signals in the sky 
And in the hedge the thrush's cry, 

She took the long, long trail. 

Three with her walked. 
Three comrades down each sunny slope, 
And one was Love, and one was Hope, 

And one was Faith supreme. 



64 



COMRADES THREE 65 

And life was joy, 
Until one black and bitter day- 
Love faltered on the upward way, 

Faltered and lost the step. 

And when at last, 
White-faced as one who bears a load, 
She took again the onward road. 

Two only walked with her. 

Then Hope that erst 
Had always laughed, or rough or smooth 

the track. 
Forgot his song and turned him back, 

A-whimper for his mate. 

And though she called 
He answered not, but stayed to weep 
And by the side of dead Love keep 

A vigil through the dark. 



66 COMRADES THREE 

And so but one 
Came with her to the journey's end, 
Where sunset banners droop and blend- 
But one of all the three. 

For Faith abides, 
When night's black ensigns fill the sky 
It puts the crowding shadows by 

And shows the quiet stars. 

And yet she knows 
That somewhere, somehow she will find 
The Love and Hope she left behind 

Waiting where ends the road. 



WHAT THEN? 

Let us forget, 

For, like a sharp stiletto turned 

In gaping wound, is Memory; 
The old songs and the old sweet loves 

Stab deep with keenest misery. 
The thoughts of by-gone days are nails 

That crucify with bitter woe — 
Why should we suffer day by day? 

Why should our lives no respite know? 
Let us forget ! 

And yet, and yet, 

If we should put away the past. 

Should bury it so deep, so deep 
That not a wraith of all its days 

With our sad souls a tryst could keep — 
If love, with all its tender dreams 

Should to oblivion succumb — 
If we indeed forgot, then what 

For all the empty years to come 
Would there be left? 



67 



DAY AFTER DAY 



JANUARY FIRST 



It lies before, the year's untrodden road ; 

How can we journey all its length, 
How bear the crowding burdens of the way? 

So small our courage and our strength ! 

But singing through the silence comes 
To give us hope, this truth sublime : 

We do not live the whole long year at once, 
God sends it one day at a time. 



68 



DAY AFTER DAY 69 

One day for Joy that laughs at care 
And holds with Love its tender tryst ; 

One day when every passing hour 
Is winged with gold and amethyst — 

One day for grief, when Sorrow sits 
And brews her bitter cup of pain 

And croons for us that age-old rune 
That has a heart-ache for refrain. 

For each day God has set the stakes 
Where hot sands scorch or roses blow; 

Each nightfall finds one journey done, 
Each eve a respite we shall know. 

And so, despite the shadow's gloom 

We take the road with faith sublime, 

Content to know, though long the year, 
God sends it one day at a time. 



RAINBOW'S END 

Let us play the game of the younger years, 
The sweet old game of "J^^^ pretend;" 

Let us steal apart from the Now and Here 
And hie us away to the rainbow's end. 

Let us pretend we are back once more 
On the trail we lost in the long ago, 

When rose-hued June leaned over the hills 
And shook her rain on the fields below. 



70 



RAINBOW'S END 71 

Let us pretend that the gray, gray days, 
Which now we walk with tear-blind eyes, 

Are filtered through with the seven-hued light 
That slipped in an arch from the clouded skies. 

Let us pretend that the bag of gold 
That's lying there at the rainbow's end 

Is the love we lost in the faded years 
Ere ever we needed to ''just pretend." 

Let us pretend, for 'tis only thus 
In make-believe we catch the sign 

Of the "love, love, love!" that the robins sang 
At the rainbow's end — O heart of mine ! 



LOVERS' LANE 

Side by side with the highway of life 

With only a space between — 
A space so narrow we reach across 

And pluck a sprig o' the green — 
Runs another road, or over the hill 

Or over the sun-bright plain 
Or down where the cliffs slip into the sea, 

And we call it Lovers' Lane. 

There tall, white lilies forever nod, 
There the roses blow blood red. 

And like incarnate spirit of hope 
A thrush sings high o'erhead. 



72 



LOVERS' LANE 73 

The violets say: "Be true, be true," 

In passionate, soft refrain; 
And the sun by day and the steadfast stars 

Keep watch over Lovers' Lane. 

And all of us walk at some sweet time 

There under the arching boughs, 
And catch the gleam of a crimson rose, 

The whisper of tender vows. 
Out of the sordid sorrows of life 

To castles we built in Spain, 
We go through the mists of golden dreams 

By the way of Lovers' Lane. 

And into the dusk of the after years 

We take the memory sweet 
Of the lips we kissed and of vows we heard, 

And the pulses' quickened beat. 
The highway of life may be snow-bleached 

Or sodden of tears and rain, 
But the roses bloom and the lilies nod 

Forever in Lovers' Lane. 



BON VOYAGE 

So many ships put out to sea, 

So many silver sails 
Go dipping through the lilac dawn 
To where the skyline fails; 

So many ships — but, ah ! just one 
Sails with my heart to meet the sun. 

So many roses blowing wide 
'Neath kiss of vagrant wind, 
So many petals pearled with dew 
The eager seekers find; 

But, ah! one rose — the reddest one — 
Lifts up my heart to meet the sun. 

For just one ship bears o'er the tide 

Love's dearest and its best, 
And just one rose of all the world 
She wears upon her breast. 

Ah, ship and rose and tides that run. 
My heart goes with you 'neath the sun ! 



74 



SONG 

I meant to work so hard to-day, 
See naught but tasks to do, 
But — I glimpsed your face amid the crowd, 
And I dreamed all day of you. 

I meant to toil through every hour, 
Deaf to the calls that rise. 
But — I heard you laugh at my open door. 
And I thought all day of your eyes. 

I meant to finish each weary task. 
Dumbly doing my part. 
But — oh, the smile of your rose-warm mouth 
Has lived all day in my heart ! 

So what does it matter at evensong 
That all my work's undone. 
Since — e'en in a dream, I went with you 
A-gypsying into the sun ! 



75 



DAY'S END 

Day's end — and behind us lie 

The good or the gilded wrong 
That have filled the space of the day's sweet grace, 
Ere the coming of evensong. 

Day's end — ^hush, hush, my heart, 

Fear not what the night may hold 
For a mist of moon and shimmer of stars 
Lie close in its ebon fold. 



76 



DAY'S END 77 

Year's end — and the months roll back 

As a scroll unwound by chance 
And the red of the rose meets pallor of snows 
Like the ghost of an old romance. 
Year's end — ^be still, my heart, 

What matters a broken dream? 
For a new, sweet love with April eyes 
Will wait where the violets gleam. 

Life's end? What, then, is a day, 
And what is a whole long year 
But a finished rhyme in the hymn of Time 
Which ever the angels hear? 

Life's end? Heart, O my heart. 
List the dead years' far refrain 
And know by the rise and set of the stars 
The end means beginning again ! 



THE HILLS OF GOD 

The hills of God are hard to climb, 

O tender little feet; 
They stand up high above the plain 
And beckon to the wind and rain, 
And one is Faith and one is Pain, 

O tired little feet! 

The upward trails are flanked with thorns, 

O little pilgrim heart; 
The stones that shine so white ahead 
Are sacrificial altars spread. 
Where you must leave your passions, dead, 

O little pilgrim heart! 

But, ah, the hills of God they lean so close 

Against the feet of God, 
You see from off their sun-lit crest 
The goal that is your prayerful quest 
And hear the voice you've loved the best 
High on the hills of God. 

78 



FATE'S TRINITY 

Three things there are fate asks of us, 
Three things to test and prove 

The God-spark lingers in our souls — 
To laugh, to lift, to love. 

To laugh, brave-hearted, at despair. 

Meet sorrow without fear, 
And through the darkness of defeat 

To send a word of cheer — 

To bear a burden without whine 

However steep the road. 
To reach a lifting hand to ease 

A fellow traveler's load — 

To hear above hope's happy song 

A hurt heart's cry for aid ; 
To love the bruised and maimed and sad, 

To live all unafraid. 



79 



THE WANDER-WAY 

Springtime — and the bluebird's song 

And gold of daffodils, 
And the beckoning trail that runs 

Away to the waiting hills ; 
These — and a low, clear call 

At my restless heart all day 
With pilgrim staff to be out and gone 

Over the Wander- Way ! 

Gone where the reeds, a-quiver, 
Sing like the pipes o' Pan, 

And the gleam of the golden willows 
Marks where the spring began ; 



80 



THE WANDER-WAY 81 

With never a pack on my shoulders 

The speed of my step to stay, 
Tracking a will-o'-the-wisp decoy 

Over the Wander- Way. 

Winds from the fragrant Southland 

Seeking some Holy Grail 
Stir purple lure of violets spread 

Beside the half-hid trail ; 
While high o'er head an argosy, 

White-sailed, drifts all the day — 
Cloud-ships by unseen pilots steered 

Over the Wander- Way. 

Oh, to be free as the birds are, 

Swift as the winds are swift 
To hit the trail that winds away 

To where the dim hills lift, 
And there to hail a white cloud-ship 

Bound for the ports of day, 
And sail, and sail — and never come back 

Over the Wander- Way ! 



THE MASTER'S TOLL 

Three things the Master asks of you, 
Though strong or weak, or high or low, 
Or want or riches you may know, 
Three tolls He levies as you go, 

Nor takes denial on your part — 

A steadfast will His love exacts, 
The will to meet each daily grind 
Of sordid chaff and in it find 
(In spite of hindering tears that blind) 

The golden grain of sweet content — 



82 



THE MASTER'S TOLL 83 

A hand that's never too close shut 
To share its shining garnered gold. 
Nor yet too callous nor too cold 
Another hand to softly fold 

Nor miss the throbbing pulse of pain — 

A heart that hearkens day and night 
To fainting cries from "out the deep," 
A heart that wakes while others sleep, 
That shares a joy, and yet doth keep 

A tryst with those who know despair. 

This is the toll the Master takes. 
The love, the help, the purpose high 
Are yours to give, nor reason why; 
His answer will come by and by 

When life has blossomed into death. 



ALL SOULS 

(On All Souls' Night the dead are supposed to be aU 
lowed to return to earth for a sight of old haunts and 
once familiar faces.) 

This night, just this one only night 

They may come back again, 
The souls that have passed through the Gates, 

Shrived of all earthly stain. 

So many myriad hurrying ones, 

So many seeking those 
They knew and loved, ere on life's day 

Fell death's eternal close. 

So many changes in the world, 

So many homes removed. 
Suppose — Ah, God ! you will not let them miss 

The way to those they loved ! 

Through dim, mysterious distances 

To where we wait alone. 
The instinct of a homing-heart 

Will bring them to their own. 



84 



UNANSWERED 



Unanswered, did you say, your prayer to tread 
Always the shining paths of perfect peace — 
To bask day after day in deep content 
That comes of hope attained, of pain's surcease? 

Unanswered ? Yea, for 'tis a selfish cry, 

A plea to shirk and not to bravely bear ; 

Why should you think that God would take away. 

Each little cross that is your rightful share ? 



II 



Unanswered, did you say, your prayer for strength 
To meet the heartache and the woe of years, 
To see, clear-eyed, where paths of duty lead 
Nor miss the way through dusk of unshed tears? 
Unanswered? Nay, look deep within your heart ; 
Read there the patience 'neath the outward fret, 
Watch how your hands reach out to helpful tasks, 
And know by these that God does not forget. 



85 



SWEETEST EYES 



SONG 



Sweetest eyes that ever 

Laughed into my own, 
Not a cloud of sorrow 

Have you ever known. 
Hope is beckoning to you 

O'er the hills of fame 
And each grayest ember 
Holds a heart of flame. 

Love is waiting, waiting, 

Like a rose just blown- 
Sweetest eyes that ever 
Laughed into my own. 



86 



SWEETEST EYES 87 

II 

Saddest eyes that ever 

Looked into my own, 
All of life's deep tragedy 
You have surely known. 
Dimmed with night-long vigils, 

Through the cruel years 
You have told hope's rosary 
With your bitter tears. 

Light of love and laughter 

From your depths has flown — 
Saddest eyes that ever 
Looked into my own ! 



ANNIVERSARIES 

How they do search the soul of us, 

Those annual recurrent days 
That from all time are set apart 
By some dread loss, some throb of heart, 
Some venomed touch of poisoned dart, 

Some parting of the ways. 

On such a day our unleashed thoughts 
Run down the vanished years, 

And single from time's rosary 

The golden beads of memory 

That are the heart's best legacy 
Or heritage of tears. 



ANNIVERSARIES 89 

" 'Twas here we met," we say, and feel 

The pulses' old delicious start ; 
"Here bloomed our rose of love." And: 

''Here" 

( O death, why did you come so near, 
Were not there those far much less dear?) 

"Here God did break my heart !" 

And as we live again the scenes — 

Or sweet or sad they be — 
We cry aloud but just to know 
If they who shared that Long-ago 
Can feel, across death's midnight flow, 

A stir of memory. 

For if Love lives beyond the stars, 

If Faith outlasts the years. 
Then surely those who've gone before. 
Upon these days will reach once more 
To us a hand-touch as of yore 

And keep a tryst of tears. 



CONTENT 

Grant that I be content; yet, Lord, 

Not wholly so, 
Lest losing thus ambition's goad 

Life's apathy I know. 

The victor's palms are ofttimes wet 

With tears that shrive ; 
Make me content to find it so 

Yet still content to strive. 



90 



